They say that women don’t need men, and I believe that to be true. We don’t need men. But, by whatever powers may exist, does my young heart lie awake late at night and long to feel what it has never felt. My eyes wander to the moon and my soul out the window, in search of some companion that my selfish belief in fate says must be out there. Somewhere. I am searching.
Somewhere, there is this little dock stretching out over a lake, where the clouds swim in the golden ripples of the rock I have skipped across its surface.
Somewhere in a far off future, I am
dancing
When I was five, I remember running across an open field on some warm summer day. We were flying kites, and I chased the one shaped like a bird, imagining I was flying right with it.
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